


First Contact

by Liviapenn



Category: Stargate: Atlantis
Genre: Awesome Teyla Emmagan, Casual Sex, Chromatic Character, Episode Related, Episode: s01e05 Suspicion, F/M, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Teyla Emmagan POV, Teylaficathon 2006
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-21
Updated: 2006-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-14 10:09:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liviapenn/pseuds/Liviapenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first, she does not even know what to call them, or how to think of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Contact

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alizarin_nyc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alizarin_nyc/gifts).



> This was a pinch-hit for the 2006 Teylaficathon, written for alizarin_nyc. Thanks to Sarah for holding the pointy stick and for Rodney's musical taste.

At first, she does not even know what to call them, or how to think of them. Dr. Weir says "members of this expedition." Major Sheppard says "us Earthlings." Dr. McKay says "we Terrans," and also "you Americans" when speaking to Major Sheppard and Lieutenant Ford. From the context, Teyla first supposed that America was a planet, and then perhaps a clan, but the newcomers (although they speak many different languages and follow many different customs) are all from the same planet, and they do not seem to have clans, only homelands. Scholars and soldiers alike wear the badges of their homelands on their shoulders, like symbols of rank.

Individually, the soldiers prefer to be addressed by rank and family name, usually a patronymic. The scholars prefer to be addressed by their title and patronymic as well. They are all so formal with each other, barring some of the younger soldiers. At first Teyla thinks that it is just the way of their people, so she is careful to be quite formal as well. Later she realizes that many of them came to this galaxy as strangers even to each other, and that they simply did not know each other well enough to be casual, let alone intimate.

When they meet with Major Sheppard and Dr. Weir to discuss the living quarters that her people have been assigned, Sergeant Bates refers to Teyla as "Ms. Emmagan." He does it twice, Teyla notices. He _discusses_ her, rather than addressing her: "I don't disagree with Ms. Emmagan, but--"

It is rude, but Teyla ignores it, as it causes her no actual harm.

After the meeting, Major Sheppard invites both Teyla and Dr. Weir to lunch in the "mess hall," but Dr. Weir declines, having other business to attend to. Teyla accepts; she has many questions about the newcomers, and Major Sheppard seems happy enough to answer them, though his answers are often vague and elliptical. Still, he is obviously doing his best.

* * *

The newcomers have set up their mess hall in one of the great halls of Atlantis, with high ceilings and tall windows at one end, and steps leading down and out to the causeway. Tables have been set up in precise rows, and although it is quite late in the day, there are several small groups and individuals scattered around the room. They are all newcomers, none Athosian; the Athosians prefer to eat in their quarters, which was one of the topics Bates brought up at the meeting. He was not in favor of the practice. Teyla takes a short breath and forces it out of her head. She will not allow the man to continue to annoy her. At least, not any more than he already has.

They are served a thick red soup, accompanied by small pellet-like white crackers and sandwiches on white bread, everything settled onto an odd cross between a tray and a plate. Major Sheppard turns to scan the great hall, then smiles and leads her towards Dr. McKay, who is sitting back in the corner with two laptops taking up most of the table, a neglected sandwich at his elbow.

"McKay," he says, and pushes a laptop aside to make room for Teyla's tray. "How's it going? Invented the Internet yet?"

"I-- hey!" Dr. McKay tries to pull his laptop back, then gives it up with a sigh. With nothing else to focus on, he seems to notice the sandwich in front of him as if for the first time, and takes an enthusiastic bite. "Well," he says, through a mouthful of food, "we've managed to get the wireless set up, yes. We should have e-mail in a day or two."

"Cool."

Dr. McKay's eyes flicker over Teyla. He has not acknowledged her presence yet, but she senses that he, at least, does not _mean_ to be rude. "There was a meeting?"

"Just stuff to do with Teyla's people," the Major says, angling his head in her direction. "Getting everyone settled in, all that."

"Oh, good," says Dr. McKay, turning to Teyla, "because I've been meaning to ask, I saw some blankets hanging up to air out, and, well, my hands and feet get really cold at night-- it's a medical condition. Poor circulation. Anyway--"

"McKay!" Major Sheppard says, chastising him, but Teyla touches him gently on the arm to reassure him that Dr. McKay's opening gambit is not offensive. At least, not yet. The Major twists slightly, next to her, his eyes widening, and Teyla draws her hand back with a slight sigh. They are _so_ formal here; she will have to try harder to remember.

She turns her attention to Dr. McKay instead. "And what would you offer in return?"

"Oh, um..." He frowns, as if he hadn't actually considered it. Teyla raises an eyebrow. "Well-- how about a laptop?"

Major Sheppard stares, then sets his sandwich down. "You can't trade her a laptop!"

"Oh? And why not?"

"It's expedition equipment provided by the SGC. I could throw you in the brig for misappropriating government property." Major Sheppard grins.

Dr. McKay opens and closes his mouth. "Well-- but she _needs_ one. How will she... Well, how will she check her e-mail?"

"If she needs one," Major Sheppard begins, then turns to Teyla, "and you do, actually-- anyway, I'll put in a requisition and get her one," he tells Dr. McKay. "She doesn't need to trade her blankets to get equipped."

"Oh, yes, I forgot about the military obsession with paperwork," Dr. McKay grumbles. "Well, I'll think about it and get back to you, then," he tells Teyla. "I'm sure, with my broad range of expertise in many fields, I can come up with, uh... something that would be useful to..." He drifts off, looking a little lost.

"What was your personal item?" Major Sheppard asks idly, and Dr. McKay sits up straight, sputtering. Teyla gives the Major a sideways glance, to tell him she knows exactly what he is doing. He is a troublemaker, and unless she is quite mistaken, this is his way of showing off. She still has not quite figured out if he is merely a flirt, or if he is flirting with intent... or if it makes any difference. Which reminds her of some other questions she had been meaning to ask.

"You can't, I'm not trading my personal item!" Dr. McKay says, then notices both their amused looks. He frowns, gathering his dignity about him almost visibly. "It wouldn't do her any good, anyway, unless one of her people smuggled a Victrola into Atlantis."

Major Sheppard's eyebrows rise. "You brought a _record_?"

"Glenn Gould's first recording of the Goldberg Variations. The man was a genius. An artist."

"But... you can't listen to it."

"Well, I have it on mp3 too, of course, I'm not a total Luddite."

They are obviously not going to get around to providing context for their words any time soon. Teyla breaks in. "You are talking about... a recording of music?"

"Earth music," Dr. McKay tells her. " _Canadian_ music."

Teyla tries to keep a casual look on her face. She had truly almost despaired of ever _really_ getting to know these newcomers. They eat alone, they sleep alone, they do not even call each other by name-- but to hear their music, that might be something. It might help. "How very interesting."

"He was. He got tired of performing for people who didn't appreciate him," Dr. McKay says, giving Major Sheppard a significant look. "Retreated to his studio to work in peace, never performed in public again." He turns back towards Teyla. "You could, uh, I'll send you the files, if you're interested. When you get a laptop. And when we have e-mail." Teyla blinks. "Which reminds me-- I have to get back to the lab and put up more 'don't touch' signs before the Darwin Award competition really starts kicking into high gear." He stands, awkwardly juggling the two laptops and his empty tray. "I suppose I'll see you both, uh, around."

Teyla looks sideways at Major Sheppard as Dr. McKay leaves the mess hall. "He did not ask for anything in return for the music."

Major Sheppard shrugs. "Guy's got a lot on his mind."

Teyla nods, taking that in, and they eat silently for a while. When she has finished her soup, Teyla pushes her bowl away and asks Major Sheppard one of her questions from the afternoon meeting; about the meaning of the title, 'Ms.'

Major Sheppard crumbles small round crackers into his bowl of soup as he explains. Apparently it is the respectful address for a woman with no military rank or scientific title who prefers to keep her marital status unknown. He cannot quite explain to Teyla's satisfaction why that would be desirable. Finally she shakes her head. "I believe I would prefer to be addressed as Teyla."

"Well," Major Sheppard says, "sure, if you want." He crushes more little crackers into his soup, then delicately sucks the cracker-dust off each fingertip. If he were doing it on purpose, Teyla would probably be offended at such an obvious ploy. As he is clearly not, she finds it unaccountably charming.

"Emmagan is one of the more numerous Athosian clans," Teyla explains. "In fact there are Emmagans on many worlds."

He nods again. Teyla is not sure he entirely understands her, but she does not entirely expect him to. It is early, yet. She sets her spoon down and changes the subject. "How do I tell who your wife is?"

Major Sheppard chokes a little on a mouthful of soup. "My what? I don't have a wife."

"But you are... you are the military leader now." Teyla lowers her voice, aware that they are discussing a delicate topic.

"Yeah?" He shrugs. "What's that have to do with anything?"

Teyla shakes her head, hiding her confusion behind her glass of water. Perhaps this is something better discussed with Dr. Weir, leader to leader. "I may have made an unwarranted assumption. It does not matter."

"Your people, your military leaders, they're always married." Major Sheppard says, cocking his head. Teyla is quite used to dealing with people who do not show everything that they feel, but Major Sheppard can still surprise her, perhaps because he is not trying to deceive her. It is just that, sometimes-- he is not actually half as careless as he pretends to be.

"When we must have war-leaders, yes. It has been several generations." She wonders suddenly what the man is like in combat. Not armed; she has seen him use guns. But she does wonder what it would be like to face him bare-handed, or perhaps with sticks or knives-- to meet him in the sparring circle. Once things have calmed, once both their peoples have settled, she thinks she will ask. "Still, it is a traditional belief among my people, and many of the people we have strong bonds with," Teyla explains. "A war-leader must also be a peacemaker, able to forge connections. And perhaps more importantly, a war-leader must not be... distracted, or compelled by the body's needs."

"Huh," Major Sheppard says. "I mean, I can see how it makes sense-- believe me, I've had some commanding officers that _seriously_ needed to get--" He breaks off and blinks at her. "Are _you_ married?"

"I am not a war-leader. Besides, I am a woman."

"Oh, I get it, it's a sexist thing!" Major Sheppard looks delighted. "Women leaders can be single, but _men_ are at risk of getting led around by their-- uh--" He breaks off, abashed.

"I gather your meaning, Major," Teyla says coolly. She is actually somewhat relieved by Major Sheppard's open amusement. She was beginning to think that all Atlanteans were as polite and formal as Dr. Weir, or as hostile and formal as Lt. Bates.

"Well, listen," he says, and wiggles his eyebrows at her in what she almost recognizes as an attempt to look seductive, "if you ever feel like my decision-making skills are slipping, feel free to distract me all you want." He laughs as he says it; perhaps he expects Teyla to flatly reject his proposal, and is trying to make a joke of it to cushion the blow? Teyla simply waits until the amusement slips from his face. "Oh-- Teyla, I was kidding," he says hurriedly, and she tilts her head, curious. "I didn't mean-- I'm sorry if that was inappropriate. Hey, I'll shut up now. How about that?"

"You have not offended me."

"Oh... good."

"In fact, I would be pleased to distract you at your earliest convenience," Teyla says, taking a long slow drink of water. She moves her leg, pressing her knee against his knee.

"Oh, I-- Um--"

"Or perhaps not." Teyla pulls her knee back. "Your military customs are different?"

"Different, yeah... Um..." Major Sheppard stares around the great hall, then back at Teyla, eyes still very wide.

"You have a tradition of celibacy? Warrior-virgins?"

"No!" He straightens up.

"Perhaps you only share sexual release with your fellow soldiers? I have heard of such things, when only men are allowed to be warriors."

"That's not--" Major Sheppard opens and closes his mouth. "We have women in our military! Lots of 'em!"

"Oh, of course you do. My mistake," Teyla says, and perhaps her tone is a bit _too_ innocent. Major Sheppard stares, and then his eyes narrow.

"You're jerking my-- Hey, are you jerking my chain?"

The newcomers often need to be told things that are very, very obvious. They are really quite lucky that she likes them. "Yes."

"Oh." Major Sheppard says. He takes a deep breath and lets it out. "That's what I figured."

* * *

Major Sheppard's quarters are closer to the control room than Teyla's are, but she has no problem finding him. When the door slides open, he looks surprised to see her, although Teyla did not think it was too late in the evening to call upon him. "Major. Are you busy?"

"No, I was just... reading," Major Sheppard says, gesturing back towards his bed. When he looks back at her, his eyes are wide, as if he is just now realizing why she has stopped by. Teyla blinks as she realizes that she obviously did not communicate her intentions clearly enough, today at lunchtime.

Still, he looks her up and down and then flushes slightly, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, and Teyla thinks that, whatever he might have thought at lunchtime, he gets it now.

"May I come in?"

His eyes flicker left and right, but there is no one in the hallway; surely he does not actually believe Teyla would have been so indiscreet. "Sure."

The door slides closed behind her, and Teyla slips her coat off. Major Sheppard moves behind her to gently slide it down over her arms. He drapes it over a chair for her and then turns back, wary and unsure now that he has nothing else to occupy his hands. Teyla is beginning to wonder if her joke about warrior-virgins perhaps struck closer to the truth than she suspected at the time. She sighs and begins to unsnap the snaps of her shirt. Major Sheppard stares.

"You sure you want to move this fast?"

"Life moves swiftly," Teyla replies, and pulls her top off over her head, tossing it on the floor next to Major Sheppard's narrow bed. Holding her shoulders straight, she enjoys Major Sheppard's awed expression, a compliment more sincere than any measured words.

He laughs and drags his eyes up to her face. "Yeah," he says, "you're damn right about that."

The newcomers' clothes are so plain. It was one of the first things Teyla noticed after coming to their city. They all dress alike, and their clothes are so very... drab. Even the scholars look like soldiers. Dr. Weir is the only one who seems to wear any bright color; perhaps it is a status marker, but then, surely Major Sheppard or Dr. McKay would also dress differently from their subordinates, and as of yet Teyla has seen no sign of that. Sheppard dresses as his men do, his paleness accentuated by the washed-out grays and blues of winter. Each garment is constructed so simply, of plain undecorated blocks of fabric with no texture, no patterns, barely any ornament. Teyla cannot picture their homeworld; surely an entire planet full of people cannot all dress in such a manner. They travel through the Stargate, so they must trade with other worlds; surely their entire _galaxy_ cannot be devoid of such simple luxuries.

Not that it matters, really. Luxuries, Teyla has learned, are where you find them.

She helps Sheppard remove his shirt and jacket, their hands colliding and brushing gently against Teyla's chest. He laughs a little more-- it is a good sound, a good laugh-- and Teyla wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down into a kiss.

It is a good kiss. Careful, but not unconfident, and his hands glide up her back and into her hair, combing through her curls and making Teyla shiver.

It is growing dark in Major Sheppard's room, only the last few glimmers of sunset shining through the cases that he has stacked up against the window. Most of the light comes from a small lamp on the bedstand, and Teyla gently guides Major Sheppard back onto the bed, then lies down beside him. He is very warm, and gives off the impression of barely-leashed power, an energy searching for some means of expression.

"Teyla," he says, mouthing at her neck and under her ear, and then pulls back. "Teyla, you, uh... you understand we can't tell anyone about this."

She wonders if he does not realize that her position among her people is just as precarious, if not more so, than his own rank. "I can be discreet, Major. In fact, I would prefer it."

"John," he says, and rubs his thumb over the curve of her belly. "If we're going to... You should call me John."

"All right," she says, stroking his lightly furred chest. "For here, and now."

He nods and kisses her again.

* * *

Teyla slips out of bed afterwards, uses John's shower quickly, and then gets dressed. John sits up as she pulls her clothes on, idly dragging the blankets up around his his hips.

Once she is dressed, she puts her hand on his shoulder and leans over to kiss him. "I think we fit well together, you and I."

John accepts the kiss dreamily, running his fingers through her long curls one final time. "I aim to please."

She smiles quickly and then leaves, heading down the hall to the stairway that leads up to Athosians' shared quarters. Perhaps she has not learned so much about the newcomers, tonight. But she feels that she has learned very much about Major Sheppard. She knows that first impressions are almost always wrong, and that her assumptions and judgements of the newcomers will be challenged in the days to come, just as their assumptions about her and her people will also be questioned and revised. But she also thinks that she was wise to follow her instincts-- to get closer to _John_ , and not just Major Sheppard.

She wonders, as she changes into her night-clothes and slips under her blanket, whether she will be able to tell, tomorrow, what John thinks he has learned about her, tonight.

* * *

Even though Major Sheppard was the first to overtly express his desire for discretion, Teyla does expect him to act differently in the morning. But he does not; he treats her with the same cheerful respect that he always has, the same wheedling charm that he tried to breach her defenses with from the beginning, from the very first moment.

No one seems to notice anything unusual about Teyla's relationship with the Major. Sgt. Bates quite obviously resents their closeness, and although Halling holds his peace, he clearly wishes to urge her to be more aloof. But Teyla suspects that they would both be acting the exact same way even if she were not occasionally sleeping with John, which means that she sees no reason to stop. They are good for each other, she thinks. They are both far from home, both set apart from their people, and if they can make each others' journey a little easier, it can only be a good thing. It does not have to get any more complicated than that, and Teyla reminds herself of that often.

Weeks pass, and she weathers John's near-death and her own, Sgt. Bates' hostility and the growing resentment among her own people. They leave Atlantis despite her efforts to smooth things over, though they do not go so far as to leave the planet entirely. She cannot explain why the Wraith keep finding them, but she knows that it will all work out for the best; she has done nothing wrong, and she knows that John trusts her. At least... she knows that she has never given him any reason not to.

It is Dr. Weir who comes to Teyla and explains how it all happened-- about the transmitter that Rodney found, hiding in her necklace. "So you see, we understand-- we _all_ understand now that this wasn't your fault," Dr. Weir says. She wrings her hands once, then forces them to her side with obvious effort. "Or your people. And I only hope you believe me when I say that I am so--"

Teyla silences her with a gesture, too distracted to listen to an apology. A transmitter, all this time? It is hard to believe at first, that she could have been calling the Wraith without knowing it, but it is truly the only explanation that makes sense-- and then she realizes.

John activated the necklace, back in the cave on Athos, and that is why the Wraith came to Athos, why they destroyed Teyla's home, killed her childhood friend Toran, and...

And all she can think is _oh, John_.

He must not be allowed to carry this guilt-- Teyla decides it instantly. She knows that he keeps Col. Sumner's dog tags by his bed, in plain view, always there to remind him of his failure. He has never spoken to her of them, but he has never had to; Teyla can read, and she can see the way John looks when he looks at them. John's laughter and his charm... she does not know when she began to see behind them. When John began allowing her to see past his defenses. Or whether he even knows he is doing it. But she would not add to the pain that she has seen there. Not for anything.

"Where is Major Sheppard?" she asks.

"In the armory," Elizabeth says, "with Lieutenant Ford. I believe Major Sheppard has a plan to use the necklace--"

"To draw out the Wraith. Yes, I see," Teyla says, and goes to find him.

They are indeed all in the armory. Lt. Ford is unpacking explosives and other weaponry while John and Rodney watch. "Damn right I'm doing this," Rodney is muttering. "Despite the fact that the feeling hasn't entirely returned to my extremities..."

She walks into the room, and they both turn to look. John says only, "You're late."

"Sorry," Teyla offers, and though John says nothing more, he does look sideways at her for a long moment, giving her a look that is hard to interpret. An apology, perhaps, but Teyla is not sure for what.

* * *

After the mission, and the capture of the Wraith soldier, Teyla goes back to her room. There is a long reflective wall almost like a mirror in the bathroom of her quarters, and Teyla looks at herself in the mirror for a long time-- her busily patterned coat, the rich warm colors of her bodice and pants. She pulls her hair back, wondering what it would look like if she cut it short. It would certainly be more practical.

Rodney finds her as she leaves her quarters. "Teyla! It's been so busy, I nearly forgot, but then when-- well, anyway, I remembered that I'd never actually-- I made you a copy of the Goldberg Variations." He hands her a CD in a slim plastic case, and smiles crookedly. Teyla smiles despite herself-- it feels like her first honest smile in days, if not weeks. Rodney laughs a little as well. "I feel like I should be giving you the Voyager speech."

"Voyager?"

"Ah-- well, years before we Terrans actually started using the Stargate, we decided to shoot a message off into space on a rocket, in hopes that it would encounter an alien civilization. Well, not really, it was more of a poetic gesture, but it included, you know, pictures of humans, recordings of music and whatnot, accompanied by some inspirational speeches about, uh, the vast and awesome universe, and joining together with the larger galactic community..."

Teyla examines the silver disk in its case. "The Goldberg Variations were sent on this rocket?"

"Well, no, but that was clearly an oversight on the part of Carl Sagan which I have now had the opportunity to correct." Rodney says happily. "So anyway, I, uh... hope you enjoy it, and... I'm sorry I went through your things. I didn't-- Bates is a _jerk_ , and I also want to assure you that I didn't read your journal. I have a younger sister and so I know that saying that is just going to make you think that I did, but--"

"My journal is in Athosian, Dr. McKay, which I don't believe you understand."

"Oh! Well, no. Well, good then." Rodney says. He looks as if he did not expect to get off quite so easily.

"I am not angry with you," she says, spelling it out for his benefit. "I would not have gone on the mission with you-- with any of you-- if I were."

"That's good," Rodney says, "I mean, great, because... The team wouldn't be the same without you. That's all."

"Thank you, Rodney." Teyla smiles, taking him by the shoulders and tipping her head forward. He jerks clumsily into the embrace, resting his forehead lightly against hers for a moment, and then straightens up, blushing a little.

"Let me know what you think of the Variations. I'd-- I'd be interested to hear your thoughts."

Teyla inclines her head. "I will."

* * *

She spends the night on the mainland with her people, and waits on the beach for the puddlejumper that will arrive to pick her up early the next morning. To her surprise, it is Major Sheppard who is waiting inside the puddlejumper when she boards. It is a good excuse to be alone together, but part of their arrangement is that they do not often take advantage of any of the good excuses they have to be alone together. They do spar, and Teyla has heard some muttered words about even that much intimacy. But the gym is a public space; the back of a puddlejumper is not.

"Hey," John says.

Teyla slides into the seat behind him, where he cannot see her while he is flying. "Hey."

John lifts off, aiming them back towards Atlantis with easy grace, and Teyla is just beginning to relax when he twists around and asks her, "Are you mad at me?"

"Should you not--?"

"Automatic pilot," John shrugs. "It's a straight shot back to Atlantis. Let the jumper worry about it."

"I see."

"So... you're mad at me."

"I am not," Teyla assures him. "I told Dr. Weir yesterday that I would have done the same in her place, and it is true." John's eyes narrow, only slightly, and Teyla sighs, looking down at her hands in her lap. "Perhaps I would not have used her exact approach, but believe me, I would have done anything and everything necessary to ensure the safety of my people in the face of a clear threat."

John nods carefully. "So... you're mad at me."

He usually does not push her like this; they try not to argue when they are alone, as it would be contrary to the purpose of their arrangement. Teyla finds herself growing frustrated. "I am not 'mad at you!' _Why_ would I be?"

"Because I--" John gestures at her chest, where the necklace should be, but is not, then swings his arm around to point back at the mainland, where Teyla should be, but is not. "Because--"

She knows that she should remain cool, remain aloof, but she cannot hear this. She grabs his tac vest in both hands, drags him out of his chair and dumps him onto the ground, dropping to her knees to straddle him. "Shut up."

"I'm sorry," John says, and Teyla thumps him with both hands in the middle of his chest, hard.

"I am tired of apologies. You do not owe me--"

"The hell I don't-- I brought the Wraith down on your people!" John grits out. "Jesus, it was fucking bad enough when I thought that I'd just woken them all up, but at least it wasn't my fault that they attacked us in the first fucking place, and now it _is_ \-- it's _all_ my fault--" He sits up, taking her roughly in his arms and staring into her eyes. "Who am I supposed to apologize to, if I can't even say I'm sorry to you?"

Teyla shakes her head. She does not know how to explain this in a way John will understand. The Wraith are something Teyla has lived with, a force of nature that has always existed, that she had once believed always _would_ exist. John sees them as something unnatural, utterly shocking, something he caused, but Teyla has seen ruined cities ten thousand, five thousand, a thousand years old and she knows that the deaths caused by the Wraith are not John's fault, that they can be nobody's fault. That much guilt... it is enough to break even a strong man, and it scares her.

She shakes her head and kisses him, hard, trying to reassure him. He shakes in her arms, trying not to pull away, or trying not to be obvious in his need-- Teyla doesn't know. When she ends the kiss, John still has that broken scratch in his voice. "I don't know how to apologize to you. I don't know what to say. But I don't want... I don't want to lose you."

"Say nothing," Teyla says, and kisses him again, more gently this time. "Say nothing, John. You will not... I am not going anywhere."

"God," John says, and kisses her back desperately, his hands already moving deftly on the ties and buttons of her shirt. "You're so-- what'd I ever do to deserve you?" She pulls her coat off, and he helps. As he stretches to lay it across the chair, Rodney's CD falls out of her pocket and nearly strikes him in the face before she catches it. "Ow," John says, as her hand hits his nose despite her best efforts.

"Sorry," Teyla says, setting the CD carefully aside. "Dr. McKay gave it to me," she says in answer to his questioning look. "The Goldberg variations."

"Oh," John says, "right, I remember. What'd you think of it?"

"It was... strange," Teyla glances away. She had still been upset, yesterday, but the trip to the mainland had given her a chance to relax, and to listen to Rodney's gift, and she thinks... she thinks that it helped. "I am not sure I understood it, really," she admits with a sigh.

John nods. "Sure."

"I still liked it," she hastens to reassure him. "I thought it was lovely." She bites her lip. "Strange, yes. Not like anything I have known, before. But..." She does not quite know what to say, here. She does not really know what she means. "But... not bad."

"We don't know what we're doing out here, you know." John says. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing out here."

Teyla brushes his hair back from his forehead, smiling. "I know," she says. "I am right here with you, John."

"Yeah." John stares at her, and his mouth twitches in something like a smile. "I guess you are. And... it's not bad?"

Teyla says nothing, but kisses him again, and this time it is not a question; this kiss is an answer. This time she thinks that, perhaps... Perhaps they have begun to understand each other.


End file.
